


I Think I See a Future

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 07:31:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2420294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Alnima asked for single dad Zayn and his daughter Violet. I strayed a bit from the prompt but I hope you enjoy it.</p>
    </blockquote>





	I Think I See a Future

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alnima](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alnima/gifts).



> Alnima asked for single dad Zayn and his daughter Violet. I strayed a bit from the prompt but I hope you enjoy it.

Zayn can’t remember the last time he let Louis talk him into going out. Most Fridays are spent with a pizza picked up in a hurry from Pizza Express, Violet in her pajamas and the two of them camped out on the floor in front of a movie. Sometimes Harry joins them, sometimes it’s Louis and Liam arguing over whether to watch Brave or Tangled while Violet ignores them and chooses Lilo and Stitch. Mostly, Fridays involve falling asleep at eight with his daughter asleep on his chest. 

He’s standing in the bathroom eyeing himself critically. He looks alright, he thinks, for a twenty-four year old single dad who hasn’t been laid for the better part of a year. 

“You’ve got to get laid,” Louis had said over breakfast. And text. And email. “Have a little meaningless sex every once in a while. It’s good for the soul.” Zayn had said yes so Louis would back off. 

“Baba,” Violet says. She’s standing on the toilet next to him, spritzing herself with the little spray bottle he bought her when she was old enough to start insisting she wanted to wear his cologne. 

Zayn turns away from the mirror to give her his full attention. She’s dressed for bed in a red onesie, her hair damp from the bath. She also has her Thor cape around her neck, the one Zayn made for her out of duct tape and two of Harry’s old scarves. She’s going through a super heroes phase, one that Zayn may or may not have encouraged with episodes of Avengers Assemble. 

She stops what she’s doing and gives Zayn a long, scrutinizing stare. “Baba,” she says quietly, all seriousness, “you look very handsome.” She stands up on her tiptoes to fiddle with the collar of Zayn’s shirt, straightening it with a purse of her lips, concentrating. When she’s not at school, she’s surrounded by adults and she’s picked up several mannerisms that Zayn knows she’s seen one of the lads do, or his mum when she’s down from Bradford to check on her granddaughter and make sure Zayn and his mates haven’t forgotten to feed or bathe her. Mostly he thinks his mum is making sure he’s happy. 

“Thank you, ladybug,” Zayn says, turning to kiss the top of her head. “I do feel quite handsome. It must be my cape.” 

He grips the edges of his own cape they made together one rainy Sunday afternoon while Violet got paint on the carpet and Harry wrote a song about it. He does a little twirl just for the way her face lights up and she claps her hands. 

Zayn unfastens the yarn holding the cape on and pulls it off. “Will you save this for me? I’m going to need to find it when I get home.” 

Violet takes it very carefully and Zayn grins. His daughter is a spitfire and a ball of love and charm. 

“I hope you and uncle Harry have fun tonight.” Zayn lifts her off the toilet and hoists her on his hip. “Try to go easy on him, tonight, okay? And Liam too. Last time didn’t go so well.” 

Last time involved Violet talking Harry and Liam into letting her put “makeup” on. She had black whiskers and a red nose for three days because she’d found Zayn’s permanent markers. Zayn figured the rainbow and stars on Liam’s forehead and the tiger stripes on Harry’s cheeks had been punishment enough. 

“Me and Liam are going to play,” she tells him as Zayn carries her out into the living room. “He’s going to be Loki.” 

Violet has an imagination that Zayn’s done his best to encourage, letting her explore the different sides of her personality. She’s more outgoing than he’s ever been but she’s got that same creativity he recognizes in himself. The lads, bless them, indulge her sense of make believe, engaging her in whatever she’s decided she’s interested in. 

Last month it was the Ninja Turtles. She wore a purple scarf around her eyes with holes Harry had helped her cut out so she could see and one across her chest where she’d tucked two empty towel paper tubes she referred to as her “chucks.”

"You're Michelangelo," she said to Louis the first time, coming out of her room dressed head to toe in green with the scarf around her eyes and handed Louis a face-mask she'd made at school out of a paper plate and orange paint. "We fight the foot clan," she told him as he got to his knees and she fastened the mask around his ears, her little fingers clumsy. "And then we escape to California and get married." 

In the living room, Liam and Louis are playfully arguing about something. Zayn gave up on figuring the two of them out ages ago. 

Violet squirms for Zayn to let her down and races to the sofa, flinging herself at Louis, arms around his knees. Violet’s crush on Louis started just about the day she came home from hospital. She’d be crying and Zayn wouldn’t have any clue what to do and Louis would swoop in, take her from Zayn and croon to her, “that’s a love, it’s alright darling, what are you so sad about? Uncle Louis’s got you.” 

Beside him, Liam’s fiddling with his own cape, the one Violet had painstakingly created for him. “Why am I Loki?” he’d asked last week when Violet had stood on a chair to fasten it around his neck. 

She’d palmed his face between her little hands and tugged until they were nose to nose. “Because, uncle Liam,” she said with a put upon sigh that said they’d been over this already. “You’re too pretty to be a monster.” 

Liam had preened over that for _days_. 

Harry comes out of his bedroom in his bare feet. “Ready to have some fun tonight?” he says. He’s got his arms full of what looks like every scarf he owns. 

Zayn just watches everything unfold around him, this chaos that is his life. Their flat resembles a wayward home for lost boys these days. Harry spent the night when Violet was eleven months old and never left. Louis and Liam share a place a distance away but fifty percent of the time they end up crashing on the sofa or the blow up mattress. 

Violet loves the attention. There isn’t anything that makes her happier than when Harry sings her her goodnight song or when Liam watches Tangled with her or when Louis lets her draw “pitchers” on his arms. But Zayn wonders if all the chaos is keeping her from having a normal upbringing. 

Zayn kneels beside Violet. “Please be gentle with Harry and Liam tonight, alright?” He tucks her thick, dark hair behind her ear. Some days she looks so much like him it makes his chest ache. She’s her own little whirlwind of a person but he sees so much of himself in her. 

“They’re fragile boys,” Zayn tells her as she squirms against him, turning so she can wrap her thin little arms around his neck. “They can’t keep up with you, my little tornado.” 

Violet lets out a little squeal of laughter, her entire face lighting up. She shakes her head at him.“I thought I was a hurricane, baba.” 

“Heyyy,” Harry says, looking up from his position on the floor, surrounded by a rainbow of silk and cotton. “I thought she was a typhoon.”

“I’m rather partial to tsunami, myself,” Liam says, giving Violet a wink that makes his face scrunch up and has Violet giggling and making faces at him. 

Zayn tugs her in against him and presses his face to her damp hair. “I’m going to miss our bedtime story,” Zayn tells her.

Violet pulls back. “Me too,” she says sadly. “Uncle Liam is a good Loki, but he’s not so good at stories.” She leans in for a conspiratorial whisper. “He doesn’t do the voices like you do.” 

Zayn shakes his head gravely. “I’m not surprised. I’m the king of stories.” He scoops her up for one last hug. “Love you.” 

Violet gives him a smacking kiss on the mouth and squirms away. She takes off at a run. “Love you! Come on Liam, we have to go save Asgard.” 

Zayn watches her grab her pretend hammer and run out of the room with Liam right behind her and Louis with his mobile out, catching everything on video. Zayn can only imagine what Louis plans to do with it. 

“Haz,” Zayn says as he pulls his jacket on. “Try not to let her stay up too late, please. She has her first music class in the morning.” 

Harry nods, not looking up from whatever ridiculous thing he’s doing. “Got it. Ice cream for dinner, bedtime at midnight.” 

Zayn picks a pillow up off the sofa and hurls it at Harry, laughing when it hits him square in the face. 

“Okay, daddy Zayn,” Louis says, getting to his feet and pocketing his mobile. “Time to get you laid.” 

“I’m on my mobile if there’s any trouble,” Zayn says to Harry one last time over his shoulder as Louis ushers him out of the flat. 

 

* * * 

 

Nick’s working tonight and he nods at them from behind the bar as they walk in. It’s busy, a typical Friday night with uni students and twenty-somethings celebrating the end of the work week. 

He and Louis used to come here most nights, back in uni, back before Violet when his life was about sleeping through lectures and drinking until two in the morning. Now he’s got a daughter he’d rather be at home with, playing Avengers with a shield made out of an old pizza box and having a bubble fight in the bath. 

Zayn feels so much older than his years as he stands in the doorway and takes in the crowded pub, a place that used to feel more like home to him than his flat. 

“Come on, old man,” Louis says, tugging Zayn to the bar, “first one’s on me.” 

Louis finds a spot for them down at the end where it’s less noisy. “Oy! Grimshaw!” Louis shouts, slapping his hand on the bar to get Nick’s attention, though there’s no need since he’s already worked his way to their end, giving Zayn a warm smile and rolling his eyes at Louis. “Two pints, please,” Louis says. 

Zayn takes a seat on an empty stool and shrugs out of his jacket. The fall weather has turned cool lately but it’s warm inside the pub from the press of people. 

“Hi love,” Nick sets a pint in front of Zayn. “How’s my little sweetheart?” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Harry’s just fine,” he says, waving his hand in Nick’s face. “Forget something did you?” 

Nick grabs Louis’s wrist. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, Lewis, or in this case, the bartender with the alcohol. Be nice.” 

“Cheers,” Zayn says, grinning and elbowing Louis. Zayn thinks he better pace himself - Lou’s a mess already and he hasn’t had anything to drink yet. 

“Violet’s good,” Zayn says to Nick. “She asked Harry yesterday on the way home from school when the two of you were getting married. She has her heart set on a pretty flower girl dress.” 

“She might have to fight with Louis over that honor,” Nick says, slapping at Louis’s hand where he’s trying to reach behind the bar. “Behave, or I’ll call Liam.” 

Louis pulls his hand back with a hurt look on his face. “That’s playing dirty,” he says crossly. 

Zayn hasn’t been out on the pull in months. He feels rusty, that muscle memory faded and hazy. He watches Louis and Nick flirt like a couple of primary schoolers, harmless and rather annoying. As a wingman, Louis’s shit. 

He’s looked at his phone twice and he’s thinking of throwing it in and going home. He could make it back in time to read Violet a bedtime story and sing her a song. Maybe have a bit of a cuddle. 

"Alright if I sit here?" 

Zayn turns to find a fit lad about his age with a pint in his hand, hovering at the stool next to Zayn’s. He’s alone, dressed in a snapback and a pair of jeans with holes at the knees, skin tight in a way that has Zayn wondering how he got them on. He’s in a plain t-shirt with the sleeves rolled. 

"It's cool," Zayn says. 

“Thanks,” he says, and settles down next to Zayn. 

“Niall!” Nick says from Zayn’s other side. 

Skinny jeans laughs and hoists himself up on his arms to lean over the bar and give Nick a kiss on the cheek. “You alright, Grimmy? Staying out of trouble?” 

“Unfortunately,” Nick says, shaking his head sadly, “try as I might just can’t seem to find any.” Nick looks between Zayn and Niall. “Have you lads met? Zayn, this is my new bestie Niall. Niall, this is the most beautiful boy you’ll ever meet, Zayn.” 

“Go on,” Zayn mumbles, flushed, and Niall just holds out his hand, grinning. “Good to meet you, Zayn.” 

Zayn shakes Niall’s hand and Niall just holds onto it for a beat before letting go. 

“You two have fun,” Nick says and turns his attention back to Louis. 

“How long have you known Nick,” Niall asks, taking off his snapback and setting it on the bar. His hair is blonde at the ends, dark at the roots and falls across his forehead, soft and free of product. Without the brim of his hat, Zayn can see how blue his eyes are. He’s quite nice to look at. 

Zayn shrugs. “Just about forever, seems like. He and my best mate have been together since uni.” 

Recognition flickers across Niall’s face. “You're mates with Harry? We met the other day at Nick’s.” Niall’s smiling like he’s remembering something and Zayn recognizes that look, he gets that same goofy grin when he thinks about Harry. It’s hard not to fall in love with him. 

“How about you,” Zayn says, shifting on his seat so he’s sideways, facing Niall. “Have you known Nick long?” 

“Nah,” Niall shakes his head. “Only about a month now. Just moved here from Dublin. Saw a sign in the window here asking for help and Nick just gave me the job like that.” He laughs and shakes his head fondly. “Idiot. I’m proper shit at pouring drinks, don’t know about anything but beer, if I’m honest.” 

Zayn can’t stop watching the way Niall’s expressions shift, the way his mouth moves and his eyes light up as he talks. He’s animated and engaging and Zayn wants to draw him. He hasn’t drawn anything but doodles of Violet as Disney characters in ages. But Niall makes him want to get serious about it again, with charcoal and proper lighting. 

He reaches for his pint and takes a swallow. 

“Why London?” Zayn asks, for something to say to distract himself. 

“Got a job teaching music,” he says with a grin. “Fucking sick, I couldn’t believe it. I just finished university in Dublin, came down here with some mates over the summer, thinking of moving here.”

“What are you teaching? Do you play?” 

“I play guitar,” Niall says. “It’s nothing full time, just a few classes a week, but there’s nothing I’d rather do. Thought I’d have to stay in Dublin busking. I’d do it, too, if it meant I could earn my living with music.” 

“Never finished uni, myself,” Zayn says. At some point Zayn’s stool has managed to find its way closer to Niall’s and their knees touch when he moves, leaning in. “Thought I would, but life kind of happened.” 

Zayn doesn’t mention Violet. He likes that Niall doesn’t know about her, doesn’t know his history or the reason he never finished uni. 

“What kind of work do you do?” Niall asks. He’s got a way of speaking that makes Zayn feel like he’s paying attention, like he cares about the answers Zayn might give. 

“I work at an art gallery,” Zayn tells Niall. “Just basic reception work,” he says with a shrug. “But it’s good, I like it.” 

He finds himself telling Niall about his own art, something he rarely even shares with Harry and the lads. 

“I’d love to see something you’ve done sometime,” Niall says, like he means it, like he’s interested in Zayn and his art. He moves his hand on the bar and their fingers brush and Zayn doesn’t know if it was deliberate but he wants to cover Niall’s hand with his own, see how they fit together. 

Zayn pulls the collar of his top aside before he can think better of it. “Drew this one,” Zayn mumbles, feeling self-conscious. There’s a splash of ink across his collarbone that curves up to his shoulder. It’s the tattoo of a violet he got the month after his daughter was born, the one he sketched out at three am while she slept in the cradle of his legs. 

Niall shifts closer to see it and lets out a murmur of praise. “Zayn, that’s sick, you did that?” Niall’s close enough Zayn can feel his breath on his skin. 

Zayn swallows and tugs his collar back in place. 

Niall doesn’t ask if it means anything and Zayn’s grateful for it, he doesn’t want to explain Violet, watch Niall’s face change, watch him pull away. 

Zayn understands - most blokes his age aren’t thinking of kids. 

“Can I buy you another of those?” Niall asks, nodding at Zayn’s empty glass. 

“Yeah, cheers,” Zayn says. He’s warm and his skin’s gone all tingly just from a little attention. Louis’s right, he needs to get laid if he’s already this worked up over a little flirting. 

Niall’s not being subtle, is the thing. He puts a hand on Zayn’s arm and leans when he talks and there’s intent in the way he’s watching Zayn, making it clear he’s up for it if Zayn is. 

It’s been a really long time since Zayn’s felt any sort of attraction to someone. His life revolves around Violet, as it should, and it leaves him with no energy for much of anything else. Having Niall’s unwavering attention makes his skin hum with that old buzz of anticipation. 

Niall gets them two more pints and this time when he settles on his stool, they’re thighs are slotted together, the two of them leaning into each other as they make small talk. Zayn asks Niall about home, about music, about what he thinks of London so far. Niall asks about Zayn’s family in Bradford, his other tattoos, what he does when he isn’t working. 

It’s been a long time since Zayn’s met someone he wants to see again, and in the four years since Violet was born, there’s never been anyone he wanted to introduce her to. He finds himself wanting to introduce them to one another. Zayn doesn't remember when he last felt like this. Niall is sweet and funny, confident and easy to talk to. Zayn’s known him all of two hours and he’s already introducing bringing Niall into his little family, slotting him right in to Thursday night dinners when Harry cooks something outrageous that takes him the better part of the evening, Sunday morning brunch with Louis and Liam arguing and subsequently snogging while Violet looks on and giggles. He thinks it’d be nice to have Niall there, wonders how he would fit in the dynamics. For some reason, he has no trouble imagining it. 

It’s close to midnight when Niall finishes his last pint and sets the empty glass on the bar. They’ve spent nearly three and a half hours talking and flirting and Zayn’s disappointed to see it end. There’s that little bubble of anticipation as he watches Niall, hesitation in his eyes for a beat. He watches a decision flicker across Niall’s face. 

He leans in, not at all shy about putting a hand on Zayn’s hip. They’ve been carefully, casually touching each other for the last hour, working up this moment when Zayn’s waiting to be asked back to Niall's. 

Niall’s lips brush Zayn’s ear when he says quietly, “do you want to come back to mine?” 

Close like this, Zayn can feel the heat of Niall’s skin, smell the cologne he’s wearing. Zayn wants nothing more than to turn his head and kiss Niall right here in the middle of a crowded pub on a Friday night. It would be easy to just lift his chin and tilt his head and they’d be kissing. 

“Let me have a minute?” Zayn says in response, feeling a little warm, a little flustered. 

Niall nods. “I’m just going to say goodbye to Nick,” he says and Zayn watches him move through the thinning crowd to the front of the pub. 

Zayn turns towards Louis who’s animatedly talking to a woman at his other side. “He’s so great,” Zayn hears Louis say, with a swoony little grin. Zayn bites his lip to keep from laughing. He doesn’t have to ask to know Louis’s talking about Liam, that’s his “I’m arse over teakettle in love with Liam Payne” face. Zayn would give him shit about it but he can’t be bothered. He’s got plans. 

He puts a hand on Louis’s shoulder and leans in. “Hey, I’m heading out with Niall.” 

Louis stops talking and waving his hands around. “Who?” 

Zayn nods in the opposite direction where Niall’s pushing his way through the throng of people, making his way to Zayn. 

Niall’s cheeks are pink from the heat of the pub, the pints they’ve had. He touches Zayn’s shoulder. “You ready to go?” 

Louis’s entire face lights up. “Ohhh,” he says, craning his neck to give Niall a once over. “Nice, bro. Have fun.” 

 

* * * 

 

“Don’t have far to go,” Niall says with a sheepish grin as he ushers Zayn out of the pub and two doors down. He lives in a tiny flat three stories up. 

Niall lets them in, turning lights on in the small space. Niall’s a tidy person, no clothes lying around or dishes in the sink like at Zayn’s. 

“You want a beer or anything?” Niall asks, setting his keys on a hook beside the door and throwing the bolt. 

“Thanks, I’m good,” Zayn says. 

Zayn loves that “first kiss” moment, that hesitation, the second before the decision’s been made. 

Niall tilts his head inquisitively in a silent question and Zayn gives, matches his body language to Niall’s, takes a step. It’s tentative, just a brush of Niall’s mouth against Zayn’s. Zayn touches his hand to the small of Niall’s back where his skin is warm through the cotton of his t-shirt, presses until Niall shuffles closer, feet knocking together. Zayn cocks his head to the side and leans back in, a little more intent in the kiss this time, lips parted. 

Niall makes a low sound of approval and wraps an arm around Zayn’s shoulders, tugging him closer, shifting his head to the side to ease the kiss along, the angle softer. 

Niall’s kisses are sweet, careful, and there’s a question behind them, like he’s listening to Zayn, following his lead, taking cues from him. 

They stay like that, snogging in Niall’s tiny little living room until Zayn’s lungs are tight with the need to breathe and there’s no longer any space between them, chests and hips and thighs lined up and pressed together, both of them breathing hard. 

There’s no question about what they came up here for and when Niall cocks his head and offers his hand, Zayn takes it without hesitation and follows Niall to his bedroom. 

Niall’s bedroom is tidy, like the rest of his flat, clear that he takes care of his belongings. Zayn doesn’t know why he finds that so endearing. The room is just barely big enough for the bed which takes up the entire space. Niall’s made his bed, his shoes are lined up neatly by the closet and he’s got framed photos of home and family lining his walls. 

Zayn stands in the doorway feeling a little overwhelmed, and maybe a little hesitant. It’s been a long time since he’s done this and it feels foreign, like something he knew how to do once but has long forgotten, like an old song or poem. 

“You alright?” Niall asks. “We don’t have to do anything,” he says, sitting at the edge of the bed and toeing out of his shoes. He rests his palms on his knees. “We could just have a cuddle.” He gives Zayn the sweetest, self-deprecating little smile. 

“A cuddle sounds nice,” Zayn agrees. He comes forward and covers one of Niall’s hands with one of his own, making a space for himself between Niall’s thighs. “Maybe after?” 

Niall makes a low little rumble of agreement and tilts his chin up for Zayn, fingers of his free hand tangling in the hem of Zayn’s top. 

This time there’s no hesitation, both of them pushing into the kiss, touching each other like they’ve known each other longer than two hours, like there’s a comfort between them, a familiarity. 

The angle of leaning down the way he is makes Zayn’s neck ache. He pushes gently at Niall’s shoulder, breaking the kiss, and Niall takes the hint, scoots himself backwards until he’s sprawled out against the pillow. 

It’s not nerves that has Zayn frozen where he is but Niall’s complete and utter confidence. He’s pink cheeked, sweat sliding down his temple, breathing hard and Zayn can see the thick outline of his cock where its confined in his tight jeans. There’s no artifice, and no embarrassment, Niall’s just watching Zayn and waiting for him, a hand hovering at the waist of his jeans, fingers playing with the button. 

Zayn sets a knee on the bed and climbs up to settle above Niall, fitting their legs together, resting his weight on an elbow until Niall huffs and wraps both arms around his back, bringing his full weight down. 

Niall’s head falls back, eyes closed, waiting and Zayn kisses him, his heart in his throat and adrenaline rushing through him. 

It’s so _good_ , the two of them still fully clothed, rubbing off against one another like teenagers. 

Eventually, Niall pulls away to catch his breath and Zayn rolls to his back to do the same, feeling like he could come at any moment from some snogging. 

Niall’s breathing evens out and he shifts to his side, tucked up beside Zayn, fingers playing at the hem of his top. 

Zayn glances over at Niall, can see the unasked question in his expression. “What is it?” 

“Always wanted to try something,” Niall says with a little shrug of a shoulder. “Thought it might be fun to do it with you.” 

Zayn wonders if this is the part of the evening where everything goes to hell and Niall admits he’s into something extreme like piss play or being whipped. Something must show in Zayn’s expression because Niall laughs then, a sudden burst of sound that he tries to muffle, burying his face in Zayn’s shoulder. 

“I promise,” Niall mumbles, lifting his head. “Nothing too crazy.” He presses his lips to Zayn’s, sucks at Zayn’s bottom lip until Zayn lets out a little gasp. “Always wanted to try a sixty-nine,” Niall mumbles, pulling back to look at Zayn. 

“Oh,” Zayn says, his stomach spinning at the thought. Shit, the idea of it is so hot. He’s never tried it himself, but fuck, he wants to now. 

“You shoulda seen your face just now,” Niall says with a hint of smug glee. “What, you thought I wanted you to dress me up in nappies?” 

“Shut up,” Zayn says with a little laugh, reaching for Niall. 

“How do you want it then?” Zayn asks breathlessly. 

Niall’s got his hand pressed to the front of his jeans, palming the shape of his cock. “On my back, I think,” he says, lifting his head up for a kiss. 

They get undressed and Niall goes to his back, a pillow beneath his neck. 

“Come here,” Niall says, gripping Zayn’s leg and showing him awkwardly what he wants. It takes a second of confusion and then Zayn gets what Niall’s asking for and he straddles Niall’s head, facing the foot of the bed. 

“Like this,” Niall tells him, digging his fingers into the meat of Zayn thigh 

Niall wraps hand around Zayn’s cock and guides it to his mouth, the angle forcing Zayn deep. Niall pulls off with a splutter, choking and coughing. Zayn braces himself with a palm on Niall’s belly. “You alright?” 

“Shit, that’s so good,” Niall mumbles and takes Zayn back into his mouth. Niall chokes around the head of Zayn’s cock and Zayn opens his mouth to apologize until Niall moans. 

“You get off on that, do you?” Zayn says quietly, reaching down to touch his fingers to Niall’s throat, the line of it exposed, Niall’s head tilted as far back as he can get it. 

Niall tightens his mouth around Zayn and makes a low, rough noise that sounds a lot like _yes_. 

Niall’s mouth is warm and tight on his cock and it’s the enthusiasm that has Zayn hot all over and feeling like he might come too soon. 

He leans down, thankful for the distraction, until he’s bent over Niall. Niall’s cock is pink and wet and so fucking lovely. Zayn wraps a hand around the length of it and strokes it a couple of times, watches a bead of pre-come leak from the tip. Zayn touches his tongue to it to lick it up. Niall moans around Zayn’s cock, hands coming up to grip Zayn’s arse like he’s trying to get him deeper. 

Niall’s so messy with it, sloppy and enthusiastic and Zayn wants to fuck his cock into Niall’s throat until he comes. 

He takes the head of Niall’s cock into his mouth and just works at it with his tongue, hollowing out his cheeks to suck hard at it. Niall likes it a little rough, apparently and Zayn’s more than okay with giving him what he clearly wants. He tightens his hand around the base of Niall’s cock and sucks hard. 

Zayn pulls off Niall's cock with a slick, obscene sound. "Gonna come," he says hoarsely. 

Niall just tightens his grip on Zayn’s bum, fingers digging into the flesh and pulling Zayn closer like he _wants_ it. 

“Oh fuck,” Zayn groans, forehead pressed to Niall’s thigh as he shudders and shakes, coming hard down Niall’s throat. 

Zayn feels loose and sated, exhausted like he could curl up and pass out right there, but Niall hasn’t come yet and Zayn’s never been that selfish. 

“Fuck my mouth,” he says hoarsely and takes Niall between his lips, holding himself still as Niall fucks his hips up off the bed, sliding his cock into the wet heat of Zayn’s mouth. Zayn lets Niall fuck his mouth until his jaw starts to ache and pulls off to use his hand, slick with his own saliva and Niall’s pre-come to wank him. 

Zayn can feel how close Niall is and he sucks hard at the head of his cock, cheeks hollowed, until his mouth’s flooded with the warmth of Niall’s jizz, heavy on his tongue. 

Zayn keeps his hand on Niall’s cock, stroking him through the little aftershocks until Niall hisses and gently pushes his hand away. Zayn ducks his head and kisses Niall’s belly. 

“Fuck,” Niall groans. 

Zayn wipes at his mouth and climbs clumsily off Niall to settle beside him. 

"Always wanted to try that," Niall says, still breathing hard. “Looks sick in porn.”

Zayn makes a sleepy hum of agreement. He rolls to his side, tucking himself along the length of Niall’s body. "Reckon the real thing is better," he says with a little grin. 

Niall grins at him, eyes sleepy soft at the corners. "Think so, too. Dunno why I’ve never done it before." 

Niall’s warm and Zayn’s feeling tired and still a little turned on. He hesitates for a second and gives into the impulse to duck his head and kiss Niall, a brush of lips that feels a lot like a _thank you._. 

Niall rolls into it. He drapes an arm over Zayn’s shoulder and shuffles closer until their legs slot together. 

 

* * * 

 

Zayn wakes with a jolt, a ball of terror welling in his throat as he sits upright. He’s disoriented, panic tight in his chest and it takes him a second to remember where he is, that Violet’s fine and at home with the lads. 

Shit. He hadn’t meant to let himself fall asleep. 

Beside him, Niall’s asleep on his belly, face turned up on the pillow, mouth open. He’s just as lovely this morning as he was last night, his hair a mess, his skin mottled pink with sleep. 

Zayn rolls to his side and presses a kiss to the bare skin of Niall’s shoulder. He’s got to get home - Violet’s got her first music lesson this morning and they have a Saturday morning routine he doesn’t want to miss. 

He pushes the blankets off and gets to his feet. 

“You’re not leaving are you?” Niall sounds like he’s asleep still, his voice groggy and hoarse. He’s got one eye open, peering up at Zayn.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn whispers, genuinely meaning it. “I’ve got someplace to be.” 

Niall’s eye falls shut but he reaches for Zayn, rolling to the middle of the bed and tugging Zayn down beside him. “Just stay for two more minutes.” 

He’s warm and Zayn _wants_ , regret sitting heavy in his stomach. He’d stay here all day if things were different, if his daughter wasn’t waiting for him at home. 

There’s a biro on the table beside the bed. Zayn grabs it and gets on his knees, pushing the blankets aside. 

Niall wakes a little then, opening his eyes and squinting as Zayn writes his mobile number on Niall’s chest, just above his nipple. “I can’t stay,” he says quietly. “You should call me, though. If you like.” 

Niall curls his fingers in Zayn’s hair and tugs him close, gives him a chaste, closed mouth kiss. “Will do,” he mumbles sleepily. “Tell Violet I’d like to meet her.” 

Zayn goes completely still. “Say that again,” he says quietly. 

Niall wakes fully then, sits up against the pillows, rubbing his palm over his face. “Harry told me about her when we met at Nick’s,” he admits quietly. “He never actually stopped talking about her. Reckon I know more about her than I do you.” 

“You know about her? Why didn’t you say anything?” Zayn’s not sure what he’s feeling, he doesn’t think he’s upset, maybe it’s something like relief. 

“It wasn’t my business,” Niall says carefully. “I figured you’d tell me if you wanted me to know.” 

Zayn lets out a huff of breath and drops to the bed beside Niall. “I dunno know why I didn’t, to be honest.” He hesitates. “I guess I liked it - thinking you didn’t know I have a four year old daughter. Most people - well. I learned not to talk about her when I’m out on the pull.” 

“Well,” Niall says quietly, shifting to his knees and tugging Zayn close. “I want to meet her, whenever you’re ready, if that’s alright,” 

Zayn can’t stop the quiet little “really?” that comes out. 

Niall smiles and kisses him softly. “Though we might have to fight over who gets to be Ariel. She’s my favorite.” 

Zayn wraps his arms around Niall’s waist and presses his grin to his shoulder. 

 

* * *

 

Zayn lets himself reluctantly out of Niall’s flat. The tube is empty at half six on a Saturday morning and Zayn’s grateful for the quiet. He’s had less than four hours of sleep and he’s got a low level headache and a little knot of regret that he’s not back at Niall’s, cuddled up next to him. 

His flat is silent when he lets himself in. Louis and Liam are curled up on the sofa, Louis asleep on top of Liam and the room is littered with remnants of last night, a half eaten pizza on the coffee table, shoes and socks haphazardly forgotten and Violet’s Thor cape draped over the telly. 

Zayn pulls of his boots and walks quietly to Violet’s room. She’s asleep on her belly, arm flung clutched around her favorite stuffed duck, the one Louis and Liam brought her when she was in hospital last year with a broken wrist from falling off her tricycle. 

Her bed isn’t really big enough for both of them but he’s missed her so he climbs in next to her and cuddles her up against him. He fumbles for his phone and takes a photo of the two of them like that. He sends it to Niall and sets his phone aside. 

He wakes a little while later, that groggy, hungover feeling of not enough sleep to Violet poking at his face. 

“Baba,” she says sleepily, wrapping her arms around him. “I missed you.” 

Zayn smiles around a yawn, chest tight, and kisses her forehead. “Missed you too, sweetheart.”

**Author's Note:**

> I agonized over what Zayn's daughter would call him. If I got it wrong, please let me know.


End file.
